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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24337441">Mister Glassman</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvanHarr98/pseuds/EvanHarr98'>EvanHarr98</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Songfic Series [22]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hermitcraft RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fluff, Flustered Mumbo, Gay Panic, M/M, Mister Glassman - Scotty Sire, Songfic, Stuttering</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 07:01:05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,253</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24337441</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvanHarr98/pseuds/EvanHarr98</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Glassman, Mister Glassman, Glassman<br/>Mister Glassman, he's really soft spoken.<br/>You never notice glass, unless it's broken.<br/>Mister Glassman.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Mumbo Jumbo/Grian</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Songfic Series [22]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1711198</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>69</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Mister Glassman</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/SKblind/gifts">SKblind</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hey all! So, I haven't posted a songfic for what feels like ages. I have a bit of a backlog of requests that I'm slowly working through :D I'm sorry that I've neglected this series as much as I have. </p><p>This song was requested by SKblind, she is an awesome writer and I strongly suggest you check out her works. (Honestly, any one of them are amazing) Her current one: Unseen Beauty of The Ungrateful, it's truly fantastic and such a beautifully smooth read.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div>
  <p>
    <em>Let's paint a picture here in class, the teacher writes the notes too fast</em>
  </p>
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    <em>And there's a boy who sits in back, who's too afraid to raise his hand.</em>
  </p>
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    <em>And ask if she could slow it down, so <span class="pwa pwa1 pwa-color pwa-blue">nervously</span>, he looks around,</em>
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  <p>
    <em>Can't <span class="pwa pwa1 pwa-color pwa-blue">bare</span> to stand out in the crowd. And he's only gotten half the notes down.</em>
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  <p>Artificial lights painted their humming glow on the room, rows of teenagers sat at their desks, all their heads faced forwards, their eyes focused on the board ahead. Stood before the students was a teacher, Mr Keralis. His hand shifted at lightning speed as he flicked his board marker across the glossy white screen, painting black scrawls across it. </p>
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  <p>At the rear of the classroom, sat at the very last desk, was Mumbo. He leant forward in his chair, his hand aching from the speed in which his pen was scribbling across his notebook, his brow was creased with concentration and his tongue slipped out of his mouth, peeking just between his lips. He flicked his gaze up to the board and skimmed across the words, reading them as fast as he could before he then transcribed them down for later studying. </p>
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  <p>"Has everyone got that?" The teacher asked as he came to the end of his lecturing speech. Mumbo glanced up to him and his eyes narrowed on the whiteboard rubber Mr Keralis clasped in his fingers. Mumbo peered between his own work and what was still on the board. He hadn't finished, he still had almost a paragraph left to write. His hand twitched by his side before he regarded the other students. All of them were sharing the same nodding motion, like bobbing dogs. His brow pinched together on his forehead as his throat clenched. Mumbo had to ask the teacher to slow down, to wait for him to catch up, but everyone else had finished. He'd be holding up the entire class. His hand twitched once more as he prepared to request for Mr Keralis to pause in his lecturing, but a sinking, crushing weight gripped at his chest. It clung to each of his ribs, and tugged at the bones, restricting his breath. Mumbo's shoulders bunched up around his ears as his face heated, a pink blush skittered across his cheeks and stained the tips of his ears. The thought of everyone's eyes on him, judging him for not writing faster, glaring at him for keeping the class at the teacher's mercy for longer than needed. Mumbo couldn't do it. His muscles clenched, tightening and locking into place. His fingers gripped his pen tighter as his eyes dropped back down to the page. Useless, shy, nervous. All were words that floated through Mumbo's mind, ricochetting within his skull. He let out a shaking breath. This was yet another lesson in which he'd leave with half-finished notes. </p>
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    <em>The school bell rings and he feels deflated. Looks at his hand,</em>
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  <p>
    <em><span class="pwa pwa1 pwa-color pwa-blue">He</span> <span class="pwa pwa2 pwa-color pwa-red">shoulda</span> raised it. His biggest fear, he <span class="pwa pwa2 pwa-color pwa-red">shoulda</span> faced <span class="pwa pwa1 pwa-color pwa-blue">it</span></em>
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  <p>
    <em>And now he's lost inside the pages. He might be <span class="pwa pwa1 pwa-color pwa-blue">there</span> but you never noticed.</em>
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  <p>
    <em>Got a lot to say<span class="pwa pwa1 pwa-color pwa-blue"> but</span> he's soft spoken, he's a book, it just isn't open.</em>
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    <em>A tiny ripple in a stormy ocean.</em>
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  <p>The lesson continued to drone on until Mr Keralis' voice was interrupted by the screaming pang of the school bell. Lunchtime. At the chiming, the teens all rose from their seats in unison and shovelled their books and pens in their bags, slinging them over their shoulders, all the while Mr Keralis continued to chirp about the homework that he'd set for the coming week. Mumbo's eyes flicked over his fellow students. His mind was a clouded mess, his body felt stiff, almost as if cotton fluff filled him. His chest felt hollow but at the very same time filled to the brim. He silently pushed himself to stand, reaching for his own bag and carefully slotting the notebook in its place before he did the same with his pen. </p>
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  <p>A herd of hormonal angst huddled together as they filtered through the door of the classroom, each headed towards the cafeteria. Mumbo watched them nervously. He chewed at the inside of his cheek, his eyes flicking from one spotty face and to the other, waiting patiently to slip through the door unnoticed. Stood at the rear of the group, his mind snapped back to his unfinished notes. His chest ached. He should have raised his hand - he knew this. He was well-aware that unless he forced himself out of his comfort zone, he'd never leave it. But how was one supposed to venture forth from the state in which they derived such solace, when any form of social contact was a mile from the metaphorical barriers? </p>
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  <p>Hands shoved deep in his pockets, backpack resting against his shoulders, Mumbo slipped from the classroom. His eyes were fixed to the floor as he sped through the school and out of the main door. He effortlessly dodged and weaved through the clusters of bustling students, moving through the gaps of their small society, bee-lining for his safe space. The lunchroom had always been too crowded for Mumbo. His mum had often offered to give him money for school dinners, but he couldn't take it. He couldn't face waiting in line with the others. What if he fell? Tripped over and collided with the person in front? What if he couldn't make his mind up between the vegetarian or the regular options? There were too many variables, too many things for Mumbo to consider. He much preferred his packed lunch. His mum prepared the same thing for him every day, a peanut butter and jam sandwich, a packet of ready salted crisps, a piece of fruit and a cereal bar. </p>
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  <p>Finally emerging through the main doors of the school, Mumbo trudged passed the break area and across to the grass, his eyes fixed to his tree. It was a tall oak that stood mighty on the grounds of the school, its trunk was thick and the bark was rough to touch. It was odd, and alone, and Mumbo loved it. He dropped his bag at the base of the tree before settling himself down and leant back against the wooden column, fishing his food and a dog-eared book from inside his rucksack. He flicked through the pages until he found his bookmark. Sighing in contentment, Mumbo allowed himself to descend into the story while munching on his simplistic meal.</p>
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  <p>
    <em>Glassman, Mister Glassman, Glassman</em>
  </p>
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  <p> </p>
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  <p>
    <em>Mister Glassman, he's <span class="pwa pwa2">really </span>soft spoken.</em>
  </p>
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  <p> </p>
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  <p>
    <em>You never notice glass, unless it's broken.</em>
  </p>
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  <p>
    <em>Mister Glassman.</em>
  </p>
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  <p>Settled comfortably on his perch, Mumbo's eyes pulled away from the book at the sound of tinkling laughter. He glanced to the source of the harmonic giggling, and his gaze narrowed on a small blond boy. A group of others surrounded him, all laughing at something he'd said. Grian. Mumbo watched the boy, gaze focused on his face, his eyes, his hair, his laugh. Grian was everything that Mumbo wished he could be, he was everything that Mumbo wanted. Pretty, confident and friendly. The book folded in Mumbo's lap as he rested his head back against the tree. A soft pink hue warmed at his cheekbones. He'd love to talk to Grian, share in their thoughts and imaginings, their hopes and dreams, but he couldn't. That tight ball that clenched in his chest threw up a blockade between the blond and himself. Mumbo wanted to be near Grian, wanted to share the same space as the other, but if he were to stand anywhere near him, he was sure that he'd burst into flames. Combust and shrivel to dust. No, watching from afar, although was not ideal, it was enough for Mumbo.</p>
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  <p>
    <em>A few years later and now it's prom season, Mister Glass isn't <span class="pwa pwa2 pwa-color pwa-red">goin</span>' unless he has a reason.</em>
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    <em>There's a cutie in his class that he likes a lot. But he's afraid to ask because they've never talked. </em>
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  <p>
    <em>Plus, if he says yes, what's he <span class="pwa pwa2 pwa-color pwa-red">gonna</span> do? Doesn't have a car dude, he's screwed, he doesn't feel cool.</em>
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    <em>He's too subdued<span class="pwa pwa1 pwa-color pwa-blue"> and</span> he's scared to meet her parents too. Boohoo, just another chance he blew,</em>
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    <em>Cause there's too many things going on in his head. And he's always in his head, thinking too far ahead.</em>
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  <p>Mumbo's eyes fixed to the posters that lined the wall. 'Prom.' It sounded fun, a small smirk tugged at his lips as he imagined himself and Grian, pushed close together, arms wrapped around each other's shoulders, as they swayed to soft and slow music. Ringing laughter caught him off guard, as someone stepped up close to him, breaking through his thoughts and tugging him to the present. Mumbo's cheeks heated as he glanced across. His eyes widened at the sight of him, Grian stood only five inches away from his shoulder. The blond was within touching distance. That soft warmth rose with gusto and was now a flaming heat that burned at his face. "Are you going to prom?" Grian's voice was smooth, gentle. Mumbo felt caught on each word that he uttered, like a fish on a hook Mumbo had been caught. It wasn't until Grian glanced at him with an encouraging smile painting his face, that Mumbo realised that he'd been talking to him. </p>
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  <p>Mumbo could have sunk into the floor, he could have died, right then and there. The oceanic blue of Grian's irises bore into him, so deep and expressive. Mumbo was certain that an entire world dwelled in those eyes, was sure that if he leant too close, he'd topple in and be lost forever. But he'd be lost in Grian, so it couldn't be so bad, could it? A serene brow lifted on Grian's face as his mouth twitched with amusement. Mumbo had fallen back in his thoughts once again. His eyes widened. He had to answer Grian, or else he'd think he was rude, or stupid. But what was Mumbo supposed to say? He didn't want to go to prom unless he was with Grian. That tight ball expanded in Mumbo's chest, clutching <span class="pwa pwa1 pwa-color pwa-blue">it's</span> chilly fingers around his throat, holding his words back and stunting his breaths. He felt as though he would suffocate. </p>
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  <p>"I-I... Well, I..." Mumbo blushed brightly at his stuttering start. "I d-don't know yet." He murmured, he hoped that Grian could hear him. He was forever being lectured by his parents that he spoke too softly or quietly for anyone to tell what he was saying. Grian's eyes narrowed on him, watching him, before his lips spread into a beaming smile. </p>
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  <p>"Oh, no one's asked me yet." Grian replied, his hand reaching up to rub at the nape of his neck. A chuckle left Grian's lips as he nervously giggled. Mumbo was transfixed. Grian hadn't been asked yet. It was his chance. Mumbo pushed down his anxieties. His eyes flicked down to the floor as he took in a breath.</p>
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  <p>"Oh, uhh... M-Maybe... Y-You could..." Mumbo's words faltered. He couldn't do it. How could he ask Grian to go with him to prom? What if he said no? He wasn't sure if he could handle it, but what was worse was, if he said yes. Mumbo hadn't a clue as to what he'd do if that happened. </p>
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  <p>"I could...?" Grian repeated Mumbo's last words, his eyes bright and enthusiastic, his smile gentle and encouraging. Mumbo was caught in the headlights. He couldn't move. Couldn't speak. He prayed to whatever deity that the floor would open up and consume him. Drag him away from this. </p>
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  <p>"Y-You could ask someone yourself?" Mumbo finished. Wait... That wasn't what he'd wanted to say. His brow furrowed at his own words and he nibbled on his lip. The ball that had grown in his chest had exploded. Shattered into millions of shards, puncturing his heart and soul, tearing him to shreds. His eyes widened, and for a moment, it was as if time stood still. A slow-motion movie, and frame after frame, Mumbo watched as Grian's eyes clouded at Mumbo's words. Oh no. He couldn't watch this. Couldn't watch Grian move to ask someone who wasn't him. He had to leave. Escape. Run. </p>
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  <p>Without another word. Mumbo gave a small smile of farewell before his head ducked, and his shoulders bunched. His legs moved with little command from his mind, carrying him away from the other, taking him halfway across the school. He shut himself in the bathroom and locked the door behind him. Mumbo sat on the toilet seat, his bag thrown to the floor. He cringed as flashes of memories lighted through his mind. Images of Grian's face, his perplexed expression, his puzzlement, his smile. What had Mumbo done?</p>
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    <em>Could've gone to prom, but <span class="pwa pwa2">instead </span>he lays in bed. Thinking about all the things he left unsaid until he's red.</em>
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    <em><span class="pwa pwa1 pwa-color pwa-blue">Silly,</span> Mister Glass, the world has a way. But now, I'm <span class="pwa pwa1 pwa-color pwa-blue">sure,</span> you've heard many people say, </em>
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    <em><span class="pwa pwa1 pwa-color pwa-blue">you</span> miss every opportunity you don't take. Don't be <span class="pwa pwa1 pwa-color pwa-blue">shy</span> kid, make your own fate. </em>
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  <p>Shadows seeped through the open window of Mumbo's room, the curtain billowed and danced with the wind as the nightly breeze flooded through. In the darkness, Mumbo was sprawled across his bed, atop the covers, his heart held in his throat as he gripped at his phone and scrolled through the pictures that his fellow students had been posting about prom. Grian had ended up going with Scar, Mumbo's nerves burned with a jealous storm, his eyes pricked with frustrated tears. If only he'd worked through his anxiety, if only he'd forced himself to ask Grian. Maybe, just maybe, he would've said yes. Then Mumbo would never have had to stare at the god awful pictures of Grian hanging off of Scar's arm. Why couldn't he just stop being so shy?</p>
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  <p>
    <em>Glassman, Mister Glassman, Glassman Mister Glassman, he's <span class="pwa pwa2">really </span>soft spoken.</em>
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    <em>You never notice glass, unless it's broken. Mister <span class="pwa pwa1 pwa-color pwa-blue">Glassman</span></em>
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  <p>
    <em>Now, Mister Glass is older<span class="pwa pwa1 pwa-color pwa-blue"> and</span> he's doing just fine. Yeah, he made it through </em>
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  <p>
    <em>Highschool even though he was shy. He's got a group of good friends<span class="pwa pwa1 pwa-color pwa-blue"> and</span> his future is bright.</em>
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    <em>And he still gets sad, but he's happy with his life.</em>
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  <p>Music blared through the house, happy songs with hardened beats that reverberated through the structure. The lights were turned down low, and Mumbo leant against the wall of his conservatory. Surrounding him were his three best friends, Iskall, Scar and Doc. He grinned as he muttered the punch line of his joke, sending his three friends into hysterics. Their laughter danced along to the melody of the song that played in the background. Iskall clapped Mumbo across his shoulder as he clung to him through his giggles. Mumbo felt his own snicker slip out as he reached an arm around to support his friend. "Are you guys okay for drinks? I'm going to head into the kitchen to pour myself some more wine." Mumbo muttered as his friends calmed down, their chuckling was now little echoes of the guffaw they had once shown. Doc and Iskall both agreed, but Scar declined. Mumbo gave a nod before he stepped towards the kitchen. It only seemed like yesterday that he had been that scared little boy who'd been too frightened to ask his crush to prom. A small smile spread across his lips. He wanted to go back and speak to his past self, tell him not to worry and that it would all work out. </p>
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  <p>
    <em>Remember when he didn't ask the cutie to prom?</em>
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    <em>Well now he's got <span class="pwa pwa2">a couple of</span> kids and they're calling her mom, man.</em>
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  <p>
    <em>Remember when he <span class="pwa pwa5">could</span>n't raise his hand in class? </em>
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    <em>Now he's up on stage in front of <span class="pwa pwa1 pwa-color pwa-blue">fans</span> rapping fast.</em>
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  <p>Mumbo lifted the bottle of crimson liquid by the neck as he poured it into the three stemmed glasses. His mind lingered on those distant memories of his past self as he hummed to the music quietly. He was so lost in thought that he hadn't heard the footsteps that crept behind him. Two arms wrapped around his waist. He flinched in surprise as a bright blush flitted across his face, lighting his cheeks with a pink dusting. "Pour me some, Mumby?" Grian hummed softly from behind him, when Mumbo didn't answer straight away he peered around his lover's shoulder to find Mumbo's tinted cheekbones, a grin spread across Grian's lips as he squeezed Mumbo tighter.</p>
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  <p>Mumbo felt those arms firm around his middle and he glanced down to see Grian's smiling face. The same flutters from yesteryear sprouted wings and billowed beneath his sternum. His heart trip-hammered and painted a florescent tattoo on the interior of his ribcage and for a moment, he was back where he started. "Ah, there's my flustered tree dweller." Grian hummed to him as he pushed up on his toes and pressed a soft kiss on Mumbo's heated cheek. The taller man chuckled. His chest loosened, and he allowed himself to lean back into Grian's embrace. "It's nice to see that nothing changes, darling." Grian mused as he gently swayed the two of them to the beat of the music. Grian was right, it was sometimes nice to see the things that were in conjunction with what they had now. Mumbo gave a courteous nod to his younger self before he reached for the fourth glass and poured more wine into it. Life was good.</p>
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    <em>But he still gets scared, still gets nervous. Cause you <span class="pwa pwa2 pwa-color pwa-red">gotta</span> feel the waves if you <span class="pwa pwa2 pwa-color pwa-red">wanna</span> go <span class="pwa pwa2 pwa-color pwa-red">surfin</span>'</em>
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    <em>Nothin' is for certain, like does cursive have a purpose? Was it worth it <span class="pwa pwa2">that </span>you learned it? Probably not. </em>
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    <em>I don't know, I digress. But the point I'm <span class="pwa pwa2 pwa-color pwa-red">tryna</span>' stress is that we're all made of glass, </em>
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    <em>Even when we're at our best. We can break, we can split or disappear or lose our temper.</em>
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    <em>Even if you think you're bulletproof, I am glass and so are you.</em>
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  <p>Mumbo perched on the edge of the bed, his hand felt the warmth as it radiated from the blanket that stretched across the mattress. His little boy peeked his head from under the covers, tears wet in his eyes and staining his cheeks. He watched his Daddy carefully as Mumbo spoke, reliving a life from years ago. "Daddy? There's a girl I like at school, and I'm too scared to talk to her." Mumbo's son whimpered. He gave a soft chuckle and nodded.</p>
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  <p>"I know, I was scared to speak to your Papa too. It's okay to be shy, it's okay to be scared. We all come out of our shells in our own time." The child listened intently to his father as he explained. His head rested back as his eyes glazed over, thoughtfully. Mumbo watched him, his chest clamped tight around his heart. He understood all too well what it was like to be shy. He hummed to his child and leant down. The little boy interrupted the silence with his giggling as the tickly hairs of Mumbo's moustache brushed against his forehead when he was kissed there. "I love you." </p>
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  <p>"I love you too, Daddy."</p>
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    <em>Glassman, Mister Glassman, Glassman. Mister Glassman, he's <span class="pwa pwa2">really </span>soft spoken.</em>
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    <em>You never notice glass, unless it's broken. Mister Glassman.</em>
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    <em>It's hard to get <span class="pwa pwa1 pwa-color pwa-blue">by,</span> when you're <span class="pwa pwa6">feeling</span> so shy. You've <span class="pwa pwa2 pwa-color pwa-red">gotta</span> keep moving a step at a time.</em>
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    <em>Mister Glassman, he's <span class="pwa pwa2">really </span>soft spoken. You never <span class="pwa pwa7">notice</span> glass, unless it's broken.</em>
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    <em>Mister Glassman.</em>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I hadn't heard this song before, but after listening to it and then writing this fic for it, I honestly have fallen in love! It's so nice and calming, but also I feel that it represents Mumbo so perfectly, and honestly, SK, I wouldn't have expected a better song from you. This was awesome to write for.</p><p>If anyone has any requests or suggestions that they'd like to see in this series, please feel free to comment on this story or you can go ahead and PM me on Tumblr. (EvTheDev) I have the same profile picture as the one here.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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